Dungeon Ex Master, Systemfall: System Earth Book One, A Dungeon Apocalypse Reverse Isekai LitRPG

The night was quiet - unusually so. Something felt off. His years spent surviving in some of the harshest, most dangerous environments had honed his senses to detect danger before it struck, and right now, every instinct was screaming bloody murder.

Or maybe it was just the news he had seen, getting to him.

He shrugged it off and chose the simpler explanation. Yeah, it was nerves. The reports were wrong. It wasn't what he half hoped, half feared, it was.

It wasn't until he was halfway to his car when he felt it -a subtle shift in the air, a presence where there shouldn't be one. Before his conscious mind could process the warning, his body was already reacting. A dungeon diver's training had him dropping to one knee as something whistled through the air where his head had been. More than one trap had been evaded similarly.

He leaped into a roll, the gravel in the lot grinding against the skin and bones of his shoulder as he tucked and came up in a crouch.

A knife, coated in silver light, embedded itself in the pavement where he'd been standing a split second before.

"Impressive reflexes," came a voice from the shadows. Low. Measured. "Most people don't see me coming."

Jack rose slowly, angling his body to face the voice without fully turning his back to the rest of the parking lot. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, picking out a figure leaning against a light pole at the lot's edge - tall, lean, dressed entirely in black, features obscured by a hood.

"Most people haven't spent years watching their backs," Jack replied, his voice steady despite the adrenaline beginning to course through his system.

The figure stepped forward, and the neon light caught the edge of a smile beneath the hood. "No, they certainly haven't." Another step. "You're the one they call Jack Emrys, aren't you?"

Jack's muscles tensed, ready to move. He scanned his surroundings, cataloging potential weapons within reach, the distance to his car, and the limited cover offered by the few other vehicles in the lot.

"Do I know you?" Jack asked, keeping his tone casual while shifting his weight to the balls of his feet.

"No." The figure took another step closer. "But I know you, Jack. I know what you did. Where you've been." A pause. "Who sent you back."

The mention of his return sent a chill down Jack's spine. Few people on Earth knew about his past or that he was a returner.

"Look," Jack said, taking a step back, maintaining distance, "I don't know what you want, but I'm in a bit of a hurry. Places to be, mysteries to solve. You know how it is."

The figure laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. It was done for effect, like a maniac who grew hysterical the more they were struck. "Always the joker. Even when facing the unknown." Another step. Close enough now that Jack could see gloved hands emerge from the shadows of the cloak, revealing another silvered blade. "But I'm not here for pleasantries, Jack. I'm here to make sure you don't interfere."

"Interfere with what?" Jack asked, eyes fixed on the knife.

"With what's coming."

The figure lunged forward with surprising speed, the knife arcing toward Jack's throat. But Jack had been through worse -much worse. He pivoted, the blade missing by inches, and countered with a swift two-knuckled strike to the attacker's wrist.

The knife clattered to the ground as the targeted wrist's nerves were numbed, but his opponent recovered quickly. He retaliated with a flurry of strikes, each expertly aimed at vital points. Jack blocked, parried, and dodged, falling back on years of hard-earned combat experience to evade the attacks.

He was quick to realize, this was no ordinary assailant. The fighting style was familiar -precise, efficient, almost ritualistic in its execution. The kind of training Jack had seen only in the deepest reaches of the Müpan people, among the elite guards of the highborn.

"Who are you?" Jack demanded, blocking a palm strike aimed at his throat. "What do you want?"

The hooded figure said nothing, pressing the attack with renewed vigor. Jack found himself giving ground, moving between parked cars, using the environment to his advantage.

A stray swing from his attacker shattered the side mirror of a nearby sedan. Jack seized the moment, reaching over to tear off the windshield wiper blade and using it to slash back, catching the edge of his attacker's hood. The fabric was torn free, revealing a glimpse of a face beneath -pale, angular, masculine, with eyes that seemed to reflect the neon lights too intensely.

Human eyes don't reflect light.

But his attacker's eyes were glowing with a fiery orange luminescence, like a hound.

Shit, Jack thought as he recognized the particular threat. He needed to end this fast. Because hounds don't hunt alone.

Jack pressed what little advantage he had, driving forward with a rolling combination of strikes he'd learned from a particularly vicious mercenary captain in the borderlands. Each strike flowed into the next in a rapid-fire series of downward punches towards his opponent's midsection, slashing elbows across their sternum and ribs, occasionally followed by knees, and low kicks. His opponent blocked most, but not all -a solid elbow impacted with the figure's solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs.

The hooded attacker stumbled back, gasping. "You... haven't lost... your edge," he wheezed.

"I had good teachers," Jack replied, circling cautiously. "Now, you want to tell me what this is about?"

Instead of answering, the figure reached into his cloak and withdrew something that glinted in the neon light -not a weapon, but what looked like a photograph. Without warning, they flicked it toward Jack.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Jack caught it reflexively, glancing down at what appeared to be a surveillance photo of a remote location -some kind of cave entrance surrounded by dense forest. Something about it seemed oddly familiar, though he was certain he'd never been there before. At least not on Earth.

When he looked up, the figure was already yards away, backing up steadily as he retreated.

"The board is set, Jack Emrys. The pieces are moving. The dungeons are just the beginning."

Jack lunged forward, reaching for the retreating figure, but his opponent was too quick. They darted between cars, moving with unnatural speed toward the darkness at the edge of the lot.

By the time Jack rounded the last vehicle, the figure had vanished. Where his attacker had been was nothing but darkness and the lingering scent of something acrid and unfamiliar.

For a long moment, Jack stood there, heart hammering in his chest, the echo of the figure's words playing in his mind. Then, slowly, he looked down at the photo still clutched in his hand.

The image showed what appeared to be a cave entrance, but something about it seemed wrong -the proportions were off, the shadows too deep. Scrawled on the back in handwriting he didn't recognize: "First of many. Come alone."

A car horn blared on the highway, jolting Jack back to the present. He slipped the photo into his pocket, unsure what to make of it but knowing it was connected to the news reports he'd just seen.

As he slid into the driver's seat of his Mustang, Jack caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. A thin cut along his cheek -he hadn't even felt it happen. He touched it gingerly, wiping away a small smear of blood.

"Well, shit," he muttered, starting the engine. Whatever was happening, it was clear that others knew about it -and at least some of them didn't want him involved.

As they wish, he thought grimly. I don't want any part of it.

The Mustang roared to life, the engine's growl a comfort in the unsettling night. Jack pulled out of the parking lot, just as a convoy of patrol cars tore past, lights flashing, sirens cutting through the air.

Now what? he thought as he watched them race by, going in the opposite direction of his intended destination. He froze, watching them disappear down the road, as his mind raced faster than the cars, ticking off checkboxes of the recent events.

News reports of what could only be dungeons appearing worldwide. Dangerous creatures emerging from their depths. The confrontation with the mysterious stranger in black, and the photo.

It was all connected, all part of some larger pattern. He recognized the signs of what was happening all too well. And no matter how much he wished it not to be the case, he also knew he couldn't avoid being drawn into what was occurring, no matter how hard he might try…

Still, for a moment he hesitated, torn between the push of his refusal, the denial of what he knew to be true, and the sense of duty pressing down on his shoulders.

He pulled onto the highway, opposite the direction the vehicles had gone, and felt the tension ease in his shoulders the further he drove.

After a few minutes had passed, and several miles were eaten up by the Mustang's tires, another rush of vehicles roared past, and he felt their passage through his hands on the wheel and the seat cushion he sat on.

An unbidden flash of curiosity sparked to life, and he tried to shove it down.

I finally made it back home, back to Earth, and now this, he thought, in frustration.

A sudden surge of urgency swept over him, and he gunned the car, pushing the speed limit as he raced down the highway.

A jolt of sensation nearly caused him to yank the wheel, causing the car to veer off the road.

"Sonofabitch!" Jack swore as he felt the all-too-familiar tug at the back of his mind. He tried to ignore it, brushing it aside as a phantom sensation -just his imagination. But the tug got stronger the further he went, and soon he yanked his old mustang to the side of the road in response and turned off the engine. Breathing heavily, he tried to gather himself.

With a frustrated sigh, he closed his eyes, reaching out with his mind toward the call, hoping it was a hallucination. For a moment, nothing happened. His heart slowed, and he let out a relieved breath he hadn't been aware he was holding and relaxed, telling himself it was all in his head.

Looking in the mirror, he slapped his cheeks and laughed nervously.

"See, Jack," he murmured to his reflection in the rearview mirror, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. "Getting worked up over nothing." He didn't sound convinced.

Turning on the ignition, he reveled in the feel of the engine as it came to life. He'd always wanted a classic car like this, a 1965 cherry Shelby Mustang, in emerald green. Yeah, the color wasn't vintage, and the interior was fully updated with modern comforts, but hey, the engine and body were the real deal.

He shook his head again as he turned on the blinker and made to move back into traffic.

I wonder what those patrol cars were going after. Some highway chase, most likely. He mused, thinking back to the number of vehicles that had paraded past.

And suddenly his awareness was thrust back the direction he had come, as the tug turned into whispers in his head, which quickly became a cacophonous roar calling to him.

"Damn it," he swore, throwing the car into gear as he gave chase to the patrol vehicles -they had been heading South. If he was lucky, it was just a coincidence. But he knew that's not how his luck worked.

I knew I should have just kept driving. As soon as I put my attention on them, they had me.

∞

As his car slipped into the darkness, the rumble of the engine fading into the night, the diner bustled on, oblivious to the quiet drama left at his table. Amid the clinking of silverware and low hum of voices, the napkin he'd tossed aside finally slid free, fully revealing the cards beneath. The Hands of Fate, the Hidden, and the Lady in White - their faces caught the muted light, seeming almost to watch the anxious crowd with an expectant awareness.

Beside them, the pair of dice remained untouched, nestled in the scattered crumbs and crumpled receipts. They held a silent weight, an air of anticipation thrumming beneath their stillness, as if waiting for the right moment - or the right hand - to bring them to life.

∞

Flying down the highway like the devil was hot on his heels, he redid the mental list he had been making.

Provisions, supplies, camping gear, weapons... lots of weapons. Not just weapons. I need to think bigger.

His list of needs grew as he drove. He tapped the voice text on his phone's console, activating it through the infotainment system, and sent a message to his brother.

"Hey, bro… I'm going to need some…gear. And I need your help putting together a team for me. I've got a… project, that I'm going to need assistance with. I'll give you the exact details when I see you." Hitting the send button, Jack grinned grimly.

His face was stone, his thoughts dark as he drove.

I wonder if Changeling can get me some major firepower, he thought, before pausing and shaking his head.

Of course, I'll never know what I need until I reach the target. Either way, he has the connections.

As his thoughts swirled, Jack's hand tightened on the wheel. The eldritch glow of finely etched Fae'Ri patterns danced in Mobius knots as they alighted across his face and neck before disappearing down his shirt to alight upon his body, as he focused his attention on the coming challenge.

His reflection caught his eye - his eyes in the mirror's reflection confirmed the reality of his fears more surely than anything else thus far.

For the reflection showed two glowing embers of light dancing in their depths. They were flames of emerald and cobalt, which matched the colors of his glowing tattoos, and like his tattoos, flames he had thought extinguished and buried by the sacrifice of his former life and power in the Otherworld. The power he'd given up was reawakening, whispering of promises he'd sworn he'd left behind.

He had been happy to exchange his power for his return home. He gave up everything for a chance at a normal life. Besides, there was nothing left for him there. Not anymore.

And still he wondered. Did I make the right choice? Was my sacrifice for nothing? Was the pact, worth it? And worst of all, was it somehow connected to what was happening?

Now, he was not so sure.